


Saingnier

by AdrenalineRevolver



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, First Meetings, Lore I Made Up, M/M, Mythology References, Symbiotic Relationship, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 01:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17929970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrenalineRevolver/pseuds/AdrenalineRevolver
Summary: Something old and dangerous lurks in the Montparnasse cemetery.





	Saingnier

The night was still and lovely. The lights of Paris didn't quite smother the stars yet the world still flickered with the human made imitations of the daylight. It was difficult to appreciate the beauty of such a place when you were living there. It was only when you could lose grip on your world that you actually stopped to look at it. 

Or at least the grungy streets of Paris and her hidden horrors were always beautiful to Montparnasse when his life was in danger. It could just be him.

Montparnasse found himself pinned to the tomb wall by a, poorly dressed, student that he dimly recognized as being a friend of Gavroche’s. The people that boy knew. His red hair was down and wild which pleasantly distracted from the fact that the shorter man had managed to grab Montparnasse without making a sound. By no account should this relatively unimposing student be able to keep him pinned but when he tried to pull away he found it impossible. It was as if he was held in place by iron bars.

He had heard rumors that the cemetery had someone skulking around that didn’t belong however Montparnasse didn’t take the warning as he never expected to be bested in what was practically his home. The guard wouldn’t be by until morning; Montparnasse’s well-placed bribe had ensured that. He would be completely alone in this.

“My sincerest apologies.” He sounded shaky, ill even. “I…I beg of you. You’ll survive. I would never kill.” It was as if he couldn’t catch his breath. Montparnasse was confused by the creeping sense of concern for the man that threatened to curl in his gut. It was himself he should be worried for, no one else.

“I’m aware that I’m attractive; however, I suggest that you unhand me before you lose them like the last man that thought he could grab me so boldly.” Montparnasse needed to get to his knife but his wrists were firmly captured. He had to bite back a growing panic as he realized there was no way out of this but mercy. Mercy or compliance. 

For an attacker, he managed to seem scandalized. It was as if he had never heard of such a salacious thing. He even blushed, in the faintest sense of the word. “No no, I don’t ask for that.” He opened his mouth to show an enlarged pair of canines and illustrate what he truly needed. 

Montparnasse supposed the teeth were petite in a manner of speaking yet their sharpened state and the way that the man stared at his neck made his heart still. He wasn’t unaware of this aspect of the underworld; he had just never expected to be so outwardly approached by it. His only frame of reference for bloodsuckers was just the grave robber he had worked with on occasion. Even then, Montparnasse suspected that man was simply a very strange human with a profitable predilection. 

“Why do you ask this of me? Why do you ask permission rather than simply bite?” He had never heard of a vampire asking for blood, only taking. What sort of con was this?

“Your permission is vital. If I obtain it you won’t hurt.” His hands were gently placed on Montparnasse’s chest but he knew based on the mauled corpses he’d seen that this could change at any point. It was like having a lion’s paw resting on your chest, simply lying there. 

No, he was too enchanting for that. He would be a tiger. Piercing eyes and orange fur so elegant that you’re almost thankful that this is how you’re going to meet your end, to something lovelier than you could hope to be. 

“I’ll repay you. I swear it.” The vampire pleaded as if he wasn’t the predator with his claws firmly on his prey. Did he truly not understand the position he was in? Perhaps he had become this hours ago. Montparnasse could imagine the young man stumbling out of his own grave confused and starving. 

“I want your name.” Montparnasse was well aware the power he would have knowing the real name of a vampire. They kept them so secret for reasons of safety. If he were truly to live through this he would need that to gain something.

“Jehan. Jehan Prouvaire.” He answered right away and looked up at Montparnasse with desperation in his eyes. “Please. Please.”

Montparnasse couldn’t help but be surprised that he gave him both so quickly. Perhaps he wasn’t lying about his need. If he denied this Jehan he would likely just take what he wanted and then he had no reason to leave Montparnasse alive. His best chance is to play the roll of willing victim. “Scar me and you’ll regret it. Take what you need.” He leaned his head back against the tomb.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, you angel of the dead.” Jehan sighed in relief as he quickly undid Montparnasse’s cravat. His delicate fingers were very nearly a blur as he moved. Jehan practically whimpered as he he sunk his teeth Montparnasse’s neck.

There’s a moment where Montparnasse can feel the sting of the fangs but it quickly gives way to a sense of painless euphoria. His toes couldn’t quite touch the ground. The muscles in his back all relaxed at once. He couldn’t even remember why it was that he was hesitant about this in the first place. At some point Montparnasse was aware of a moan slipping from his lips but he couldn’t force himself to care. He couldn’t force himself to do much of anything but cling to the very creature that could kill him at any moment. 

The vampire seemed equally enthused. Jehan’s hands gripped at his coat and were likely wrinkling it. Every few moments his tongue could be felt against Montparnasse’s neck, it was colder than Montparnasse would have originally expected but he didn’t want it to end.

When Jehan stopped drinking from him he rested his lips against the marks on Montparnasse’s skin. He uncurled his hand from Montparnasse’s clothes and trailed them down to his hips. It was likely to keep him steady though all Montparnasse was thinking of was the proximity. “I’m sorry for inconveniencing you.” Montparnasse could feel his own blood be smeared on his neck. “I had been poisoned, a suspicious hunter slipped wolfsbane into my tea leaves.”

Montparnasse couldn’t respond. He just attempted to catch his breath and held onto the vampire while trying to stay conscious. He had already placed too much faith in this stranger he refused to pass out. 

“Monsieur?” Jehan leaned back enough for Montparnasse to see that his lips were a deep red. It suited him. “Oh dear, that’s a strong reaction.” He placed his hand on Montparnasse’s cheek. 

All Montparnasse could do was mindlessly lean into his touch.

“Oh Lamia child, it’s no wonder you called to me like a siren.” Jehan sighed. “I will keep you safe until this haze passes. Rest easy.”

That was all the reassurance Montparnasse needed to let himself fade into unconsciousness. 

When Montparnasse awoke he seemed to be swimming in a sea of fabric, each more intricately designed and clashing than the next. Green silk that still shimmered in the low light, a woven tapestry of muted flowers that appeared like it belonged on the wall of a castle, and nearly too many pillows to move decorated the bed. The heavy red curtains of the canopy bed seemed to block out nearly all the light from the outside, if there was any. They also concealed the fact that he was awake.

“What do you mean you may have enthralled someone?” A masculine voice hissed. He sounded none to thrilled about the idea.

“It’s more complicated than that.” Jehan lowered his voice to a whisper. “He’s of Lamia. I could taste it.”

“Were they not all killed? If not intentionally as supposed succubi then accidentally as victims of those like us?” The stranger must be a vampire as well. He stressed the term ‘victim’. 

Montparnasse supposed he was that in the strictest sense of the word. 

“Not only does he taste the way they’re described but he smells it and looks it, always appetizing, always lovely. You could always test to see if he has an affinity for witchcraft as well.” Jehan sounded absolutely certain. “He seemed to benefit from it far more than usual “donors” do. Even particularly stressed or excited ones. He could hardly articulate for the pleasure and then passed out. Not even Courfeyrac lost consciousness and you know how responsive he can be.”

The sudden feeling of possessiveness terrified Montparnasse, he didn’t know who this Courfeyrac was however he disliked them already. Why would he care about any of these people? Yes Jehan had brought him home and followed through on his promise to look after him but he had no reason to feel anything other than pleasantly surprised.

“You mentioned that you had been poisoned, Jehan, are you sure you didn’t overdo?” The stranger sounded concerned but Montparnasse couldn’t be certain over which of them he was so worried about. It could be both. 

“I didn’t need to. I’ve felt amazing. As if I’ve drained someone completely. I laid in the sun just to see if it would make me ill and it didn’t.” Jehan certainly sounded much better than he had when they met.

“If that’s true it almost sounds like mutualism. Vampires would gain a source of food that seems rich and his kind would gain protection. It would also explain why there’s the mythological belief that Lamia, the woman rather than the species, created vampires. If those like him were consistently found near vampires, yet noticeably weren’t themselves, it would raise the question.” The stranger posited everything in such a logical manner that it seemed like it wasn’t absolutely madness. Then again Montparnasse had been bitten the night before by a creature he has suspected was only myth so he supposed it wasn’t. 

“It could also explain the association with snakes.” Jehan sounded far dreamier, as if he was imagining it.

“How so?” Montparnasse could practically hear the raise of the eyebrows in the man’s tone.

“Well if you actually found someone who could supply you with blood the way he does I’d imagine you’d be tempted to actually go through the steps of enthralling them. Thus making them immortal. Immortality is a long time to learn what the dark has to offer. There are things out there you can do to yourself to become a monster. I imagine if you knew them they would become an attractive option if someone you loved was gone along with your immortal life.” He spoke with a bit of a sigh. 

The other vampire seemed to be following this line of thought. “So you propose that the human mythos of Lamia being made into a sleepless monster by Hera was wrong and she did so herself after the vampire she cared for was killed?” 

“With what humans will do to themselves for revenge it seems as likely as anything. It would also explain why any that are supposedly from her don’t have her same afflictions. Also why she has descendants when her children being killed either by herself or by a god is key to Lamia’s myth.” Jehan offered.

“Interesting, it’s a shame we could never truly prove or disprove it.” The man paused. “You’re trying to distract me.”

“Only a little.” Jehan admitted. “Combeferre, I assure you he’s not entirely human. He can’t be. I feel like I could drink molten silver or walk into the Vatican.”

“I suppose the important question is how he feels. Both physically and about his current predicament.” Combeferre then added. “Also, don’t do either of those things. At least not without taking extensive notes.”

Now that he thought about it Montparnasse felt a little drowsy, perhaps his fingers were cold. However, in all other respects he felt fantastic. There was no stress that usually collected in his shoulders, no soreness from overusing his arms. It seemed to extend to his mind as well. When he attempted to dwell on problems that vexed him the night before they just didn’t make him feel the same way. It was like the aftereffects of a particularly good night that Montparnasse would have no hope of remembering without any sort of hangover.

He knew he should be more concerned about this but it just wasn’t coming to him. 

“Once he wakes we can ask him.” Jehan suddenly gasped. “Food! Humans eat food! I have to get him some. Something to drink as well! What do you think he would like?” There were the sounds of quick pacing and soft laughter from Combeferre. 

“That’s something I don’t think I can help with. Even when I was mortal I paid little attention to such specifics. Though there are plenty of references to bread and wine in scripture and literature to assume that it would be a safe bet to try. What did you eat before?” Combeferre tried.

“Breaking all taboos today are we?” Jehan’s laugh was a light sound. “I’m only teasing. I was in Montpellier and was able to try pomegranate. All other meals bleed together but that moment is burned into me so completely that I can taste it still. I’m not sure why.”

He laughs as if in reference to a joke made before Montparnasse began listening. “And here you are in the underworld still.” 

“Clever, yet it was no Hades that offered me the seeds, just a kind shopkeeper.” Jehan sighed deeply. “I’m afraid I just don’t recall anything else. Its just ash. I didn’t have the benefit of sleep as you have or…” He stopped himself. “I’m sorry, that’s not right of me. To call putting ones self back together from ash or sinking into an endless sleep a gift. This is why we’re not meant to talk about anything that came before.”

“Five hundred years is a long time to be alone. You have every right to be frustrated that Enjolras and I have the benefits of being in this era and did not have to wait for it. Come, it should be raining. Let’s go buy your captive something to replace what you’ve taken while we talk.” Combeferre’s voice is soft and understanding. 

“Now he is no captive.” Jehan followed him to the door. “He’s free to go. The moment he’s well enough.” 

“I’m only teasing.” Combeferre echoed Jehan’s previous tone. 

Montparnasse lied still until he could hear the door being locked. Five hundred years? No wonder he forgot such basic things as food. He debated staying in the bed until the vampire returned not wanting to get on its bad side. Montparnasse new better than to assume he could slip out unnoticed. Perhaps he could at least gain a glimpse around the room. 

As he pulled back the curtains he could see the marks of true age hidden amongst the room. A lute that seems to have been lovingly repaired time and again lay against the far wall. It was hand painted and the neck was worn with use. Original manuscripts that Montparnasse had a hard time understanding despite knowing that in theory are French. Perhaps they were older than the French used today. He knew better than to mindlessly flip through them and risk harming them in any way. There was the occasional outdated map or truly ancient article of clothing that marked the flat as being inhabited by either a treasure hunter or a man that had seen all of these things himself.

The most striking was the horse skull that sat on the desk. 

It was deathly pale save for a ring of, hopefully false, blood dripping from the nostril and darkened under the eyes with something similar to kohl. Rose petals and dried mint leaves were stiffed into the nose. Glass sat in the eye-sockets. Montparnasse knew a plague doctor when he saw one, even when it was an artistic representation of one. 

It seemed to call to him, wanting to be touched, yet like nothing else in the room it sent a primal fear down his spine. It was as if there was some part of Montparnasse that was certain he would become deathly ill if he got too close to it. Maybe he would. The vampire had mentioned witchcraft as if it were as normal as the breeze. 

He slipped his knife out of his pocket and touched the point of the blade to a tooth. There was no reaction except for the scraping painful sound of metal on bone. Had he really allowed himself to become convinced that this macabre little toy was some cursed-

“I see-”

“Fuck!” Montparnasse nearly tossed his knife into the air and jumped backwards at the horror of the thing seeming to speak quickly enough that he slammed into the vampire who had managed to sneak up behind him.

Jehan continued with a bit of a giggle. “-Amée has you.” He effortlessly supported Montparnasse’s weight and propped him back up. “She tends to do that. Especially to humans.” 

Montparnasse fought for his composure and hid his weapon away. “Yes, well, a plague is a strange thing to immortalize.”

“Not when it immortalized you.” He walked past Montparnasse with a floating sort of grace and placed his hand on the skull’s cheek as if it was someone dear. 

“The black death made you a vampire?” Montparnasse had never heard of such a thing. He certainly didn’t look it.

“In a manner of speaking.” Jehan opened the bag he was carrying. “Here, you must be hungry.” 

On the table he placed the food around the skull as if it were a bizarre centerpiece. Apples, bread, crêpes, cooked red meat of a sort, and various jams were all laid out. It was almost enough to make Montparnasse forget about the plague comment. Almost.

“Is this enough? I honestly can’t remember much and I’m not sure what’s changed.” He seemed rather sheepish for an agent of death. 

“It’s more than I usually have.” Montparnasse glanced at the horse skull to ensure that it had remained where it was meant to be.

“Don’t worry, she won’t bite. I’m nearly completely certain that she’s devoid of spirits and if she isn’t they’re assuredly benevolent.” Jehan took a nervous step back. 

Montparnasse found himself tempted to detail just how disquieting that was but instead sat down and did his best to pretend it simply wasn’t there. “You mentioned the plague immortalizing you.” He grabbed the utensils Jehan seemed to have bought for the occasion. 

Jehan’s face lit up when Montparnasse began to eat though he quickly looked away when he began to speak. “Yes. That. It’s seen as a touch presumptuous and dangerous to ask about the life one had before they died. More so to talk about it.”

“I am both of those things.” Montparnasse gave a mock bow, twirling his fork in the air. 

“That you are.” His smile was soft, enchanted almost. As if Montparnasse was the impressive one here. “I was a young man. Living in a village. I wanted nothing more than to be a troubadour. To travel the world and write of the wonderful things I had seen. Though fate had other plans for me. Death arrived and I recognized the signs on myself.” His stare fixated on the skull, as if the thing was telling him these things to repeat. “No-one else had contracted it yet. So I did what any man should do. I crawled away into the deepest woods I knew of. I remember collapsing in a clearing and hoping beyond hope that my gift to this world would be dying far from it.” Jehan sighed. “When I opened my eyes there was a creature standing over me. Long white beak. Emotionless eyes. It demanded to know why I was suffering alone in the woods while others sought them out. I begged it to leave lest it become ill. It told me “I have a horrible curse you are kind enough to be worthy of.” And removed it’s mask. The hazy vision of her face is the last human memory I have.”

“She rewarded your attempt to protect everyone with immortality.” Montparnasse had always heard of vampires turning others for selfish reasons. How odd. 

“Yet she knew it to be a curse.” His confusion was obvious, five hundred years and he hadn’t figured it out. 

“Even if you’re both completely incorrect on the nature of your blessing, it’s obvious to me why she did it.” He used the fork to point at Jehan. “Vampires are seen as monsters. They have eternity and they use it on themselves and on murder. She saw a problem with this and bit you. You seem to be spending death on art and asking permission before you bleed humans. From an objective point of view you’re a terrible vampire, which is what she wanted more of.

“What would you spend infinity on?” Jehan leaned in with curiosity. 

“Myself.” He shrugged. “And murder.”

Jehan stared for a moment before falling into a fit of giggles. “From an objective point of view you’re a terrible human.”

“Unfortunately, it seems we can not trade fates though I’m sure we can fund something profitable from them.” Montparnasse leaned back in his chair as he considered what he was about to propose. “You no doubt don’t wish to cause harm to humans. I am a man who is known to be generous, at times. I could be paid for my services. A meal here, a new coat there, you no doubt have extra money due to not needing to purchase such things.” 

Jehan snorted in laughter. “You have no idea how much of a relief it is to hear that I haven’t enthralled you somehow. No thrall would ask for money in exchange for blood. Unless of course you were just as awake as I suspected.” He grinned and crossed his legs, sitting in the chair as if he was on the floor. 

Montparnasse paused; perhaps he had overstepped a touch to quickly. “I um.”

“Your heartbeat. You may control your expressions all you like but it will always give you away. Particularly yours. The least little thing and it takes off like a bird to wing.” Jehan cocked his head to one side as he noticed something “Like right now, are you alright?” 

Montparnasse took a deep breath and tried to control his heart. He was unaccustomed to having to control himself to such a minute level. He may have to go for his least favorite approach, honesty. Or some approximation of honesty. “You’re not upset with my eavesdropping?”

“I would be tempted by it as well. I assumed carrying on as usual would be the best way to make you realize that you’re in no danger from me.” He kept his expression gentle. 

“Perhaps you have heard of Montparnasse? I assure you it’s my line of work that prevents me from believing you, not your affliction.” Montparnasse grabbed one of the apples and took a bite from it.

The flattered expression that flew across Jehan seemed to grow from his chest before spreading through his entire being. It made him positively glow. Montparnasse had to admit it was a bit strange to see someone react to a sarcastic comment in the same way an old maid might react to being told with sincerity that she’s the loveliest woman in Paris. “You will. In time I hope you will. And yes, that sounds like a lovely agreement.”

“Excellent.” Montparnasse could get used to the idea of an immortal patron.

**Author's Note:**

> Montparnasse needs to find better co-workers:  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/François_Bertrand
> 
> Montparnasse @ Amiee: THANKS, I HATE IT.


End file.
